The thermostat clicks like a bone in the wall

The thermostat clicks like a bone in the wall,

answering back to the silence of the hall.

I’ve been living in winter for three years too long,

thinking my skin was the thing that was wrong.

He liked the air thin and the bedroom like ice,

and I kept the dial there, paying the price.

But the red light is glowing, a small, angry eye,

watching the numbers begin to climb high.

I don’t need the sweater I found on the floor,

or the heavy wool socks I habitually wore.

The furnace is groaning, finally awake,

burning the cold that was never mine to take.